Wounded Sigh
The sun has long receded from the sky,
Pallid gloom invades the wintry air,
Morbid silence hangs over him,
Memory sleeps like hibernating toads.
Trees stand bare with no leaves to array,
The Earth lies shielded in its icy crust,
There is stillness, the stillness of the grave,
Breaking it, a fox is heard howling afar.
Feeling utterly down, discouraged, and weak,
How he longs to overcome the emptiness he feels
Even nature looks dull and devoid of life.
Depression takes hold over him and his soul sighs.
Despondent lies he, in his battered shack,
With a run-out lantern throwing pale light,
It burns sending spouts of fume,
Like the last breath of the dying soul.
Tormented beyond endurance,
In excruciating pain, he writhed.
The tears that flowed from his eyes
Could easily make a swelling sea.
Once mirages of hope danced before his eyes
But he is now devoured by dark clouds of solitude,
Behind a wall of emptiness, he now gropes.
He is in the throes of utter dereliction.
Hungry for affection in a desolate arena
He once fought like a losing gladiator.
Every passing day was like a decade.
Everything was damp, life was mildewed.
Now he seeks redemption from all torments.
Lying in the darkness that has become his life,
He stares into empty nothingness.
He longs for death to come on swift wings.
Deserted by everyone, he awaits the dark space,
To lie unattended six feet underneath.
He wishes to be devoured by the Grim Reaper
Who is no longer his enemy, but a bosom friend.
He listens intently for advancing steps,
Of his long-awaited companion, sure to come,
To deliver him of his baneful state,
To row him away across the frozen seas.
Copyright ©
Valsa George
|